Holy Night
by theycallmeruthless
Summary: Smog paints the New York skyline and the city lights pretend to be constellations. — Evan, and the search for the moment things went wrong.


_lately, i've been, i've been losing sleep_  
_dreaming about all the things we could be_  
_but baby, i've been, i've been praying hard_  
_said, no more counting dollars_  
_we'll be counting stars._

* * *

Evan's not sure when he first decided that his life is shitty.

He thinks that it might have been the day he first strolled down the halls of Dan Quayle Junior High. He felt like a king for a good ten minutes because he had every reason in the world to think that things would turn out alright. He was an eighth grader. He was a New Yorker. He was already in Brett's good book. He could even walk from class to class without being afraid of getting lost because Patrice had practically mapped out the whole school for him the night before.

He would treat his time in Appleton like a learning experience and have a whole plethora of stories under his belt to tell his friends when he went to college back in the city. He thought he would be okay.

When Brett walked in, he felt his rank drop to Village Idiot and he knew he was wrong.

And of course they hate Patrice. _Of course._

Maybe he came to his decision with the rap-tap-tap of Archie's crutches against the school's tile floors.

Everybody needs something from someone else, and it's not like Evan didn't know that, but he was just so surprised. Most people were too shy to ask for what they want or too polite to just take it. Archie was in a completely different category, gluing his eyes to the gold with a charming grin.

Oh, what a clever little asshole, and what trouble he would bring.

But maybe he decided before Appleton completely? Before playing Public Relations Associate became such a big deal?

The day he came home from school and saw that Dad was back from his business trip. His parents screamed so loud Evan just put in earphones and tried to concentrate on his math homework, hoping that the neighbors in the apartments three floors down wouldn't hear them.

The day he saw his mom cry for the first time. He had to fumble through the wine-stained pages of the table of contents in their siddur for the right prayer to light the shabbat candles with. He never learned all the words because he never had to before then.

The day his parents called him into the living room with plastered grins and mannequin-like poses.

_'Evan, it's not your fault.'_

_'Do you want to go with mom or stay with me?'_

_'Kiddo, I'm not angry.'_

The day his mom told him they were moving to Indiana.

Evan doesn't know when he knew, but right now, all he wants to do is blame the stupid Bloodmaster and Archie and himself for thinking that such a convoluted plan might work.

He knows that his life is shitty when he sees Patrice help Archie into the backseat of her mom's car. Her mom asks her to offer Evan a ride home but Patrice just shakes her head and buckles her seatbelt. _'No Mom, I don't think that's the best idea. He'll be okay.'_

He watches them drive off then starts down the ten block route home.

He fucked up. He really fucked up this time and he's not quite sure how to fix things because every time he begins to piece together a solution he realizes just how badly he messed up. He feels like he's trying to win a marathon but he's running on a treadmill, always stuck in place as everyone else rushes ahead.

His walk home is quiet for all but the whistle of wind between blades of grass on front lawns and the stray bark of a dog. Porch lights glow and mark his path as he passes by.

He decides for the second (third? fifth? tenth?) time that his life is shitty and exhales through his nose. He tilts his head up. _'Hey, God. I need help.' _

And then he sees the stars.

* * *

_A/N: I actually wrote this once, accidentally deleted the file, and had to rewrite it from memory. The original was better and this one feels a bit more uncomfortable, but hey, A+ for persistence? _

_My amazing beta, as always, is deerdryad. What a dear. _

_The lyrics above are from 'Counting Stars' by OneRepublic._


End file.
